It All Collapsed at Once
Childhood memories and adult realities
A poem-story
They played their army games
and toppled mini-empires,
no one complained
the day it came to this,
a schoolyard tussle
among bullied boys,
who never learned to listen.
The teacher pulled her hair,
as she had done so often,
in her frequent bouts
of fear and frustration;
their shouts and taunts,
louder every minute,
rattled in her ears.
The children watched
from a safe distance,
No one called them out;
not one stood the ground
of decency and honor,
as the list of those
to be avenged
grew longer still.
The ones who knew
to see and think,
were not well regarded,
far worse the ones
who spoke their mind,
for all had soon learned
only the weak survive.
Then it happened,
the blade appeared,
with one swing
the deed was done,
all stood, shock-faced,
puzzled, silent,
stared blankly at the ground.
They turned away
when peacemakers came,
no story like the other,
most somehow indifferent
to the tragic play;
the day would go on
minus one.
Our communal memory can be very poor if we choose it to be.
Or it can be very clear and exact.
Bullied children become childish tyrants if they survive.
The choices matter; actions and inaction dictate our future.
— notes from the writer.
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